


A Killer View

by scheidswrites



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheidswrites/pseuds/scheidswrites
Summary: The prompt was two characters stuck in an elevator. Now as I always say, the problem with elevators these days is that they're too safe. So I decided to up the stakes a bit, just for fun.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	A Killer View

Vega was certain that the system of lifts on the space station had been designed by a sadist. Why else would they have been built to seem so free-standing, or with so much clear glass? Vega lived on the second level and worked on the fourth, so she took one of these cursed lifts twice a day. She hit the call button and drummed her nails against the side of her thermos as she waited. 

The lift that ascended from the first level was empty. Vega exhaled deeply and stepped inside. The two sets of transparent doors closed and sealed with a hiss. Vega made herself yawn to pop her ears as the pressure regulated, and then she started moving upward.

It grew darker as she rose past the bay of level two, leaving the sunlight-mimicking lights behind. There were blinking strip lights above and below her that denoted the path of the lift, and overhead lights that made the many fingerprints along the interior glass glow like silver. In the distance were lights from the rest of the station: other lifts, portholes, observation decks. Beyond that, the far-off glow of stars. But more immediately there was just..nothing. Two layers of glass and metal, tubes that pumped oxygen in and carbon dioxide out, circuitry that kept it all moving, and empty space just outside. 

Inside the rest of the station it was easier to forget that they were one leaky seal or cracked window away from death. But here, staring directly out at the freezing void of space...not so much. Vega’s forehead and underarms prickled with cold sweat. She closed her eyes and forced herself to do her breathing exercises. If the designer wasn’t a sadist then they were a show-off, and she wasn’t sure at this moment what she hated more.

The lift slowed as she reached level three, which meant someone else would be stepping on. She tried to wipe the sweat from her forehead, and straightened her posture. Her ears popped as the pressure re-regulated, and both sets of doors hissed open.

The woman who walked inside had a bounce to her step. “Good morning!” she chirped, tossing a smile in Vega’s direction. She turned her head and then turned it back, a line creasing between her eyebrows. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Ah, shit. She must still look pale and clammy. “Yeah, uh...yeah. I’m fine,” she said. It didn’t sound very convincing to her own ears.

The other woman’s eyebrow cocked slightly. “Okaaay. But if everyone on this station gets some weird disease I _will_ rat you out.” The doors hissed closed again, Vega’s ears popped, and the lift started upward with a slight lurch. 

She had never felt any of the lifts lurch before. Her stomach dropped right into her feet, and she begged herself not to vomit. She inhaled through her nose. Her fingers were clenched tightly around her thermos. The light faded as they ascended back into empty space. “It’s not that. It’s…” She waved an arm vaguely towards the darkness beyond the glass. Another breath through the nose. 

The stranger’s lips quirked sympathetically. She had a cute bow to her upper lip. Vega tried to focus on that. Better than thinking about puking, or what happens to the human body when there’s no atmosphere, or--

The lift lurched again, harder this time, and the two women staggered against the wall. Her thermos slipped from her fingers and rolled across the floor. There was a slight squeal of machinery, and the lift came to a stop. Vega pushed herself back to standing. Her hands had left wide smeared prints across the glass. Above them, her own face was reflected by the overhead lights, sallow against the backdrop of space. 

They were a little less than halfway between levels, suspended in the transparent elevator shaft, not moving. _Trapped_ , her traitorous brain said. _Trapped! And if the oxygen system malfunctions too then you’ll choke to death in here, and if you try to smash your way out then you’ll be crushed into atoms by the vacuum outside, and--_

Hands appeared in her peripheral vision and took hold of her own. “Hey,” the other woman said. “Take a deep breath with me. Like this.” She breathed in, slow and deep. Vega followed her. They exhaled together. A few more breaths, and Vega felt her mind settling back into the approximate location of her skull again. She looked up and nodded at the stranger. The woman squeezed her hands gently.

“I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves yet. My name’s Lyra.” She smiled again. The bow of her lip really was cute.

“Vega,” she replied, and managed a shaky smile of her own. Lyra squeezed her hands again and let go.

“Well, Vega. I guess one of us should push the call button to get someone out here to help us. Do you want the honors?” Lyra studied the inner panel with a hand on her hip.

Vega scooped up her thermos and waved Lyra on. “Be my guest.”

Lyra shrugged and hit the button. It lit up, and after a moment there was a click from the small speaker in the panel. A tinny voice asked them _what seemed to be the problem_. Vega felt her teeth clench. Breathe in, breathe out…

“We’re in elevator, uh… B-04, and it’s stopped working. We’re stuck.” 

_Elevator_ , Vega noted. _Interesting. She must have grown up on a different station_.

The voice on the other end promised to send someone to help. Lyra thanked them, and there was another click as the speaker shut off. She shrugged at Vega. “I guess we wait.”

“Guess so. In that case, I’m sitting down.” Vega let herself slide down the glass wall into a cross-legged sit. Lyra followed suit, sitting with her own legs stretched out in front of her. She had nice legs. Vega tried not to stare. She searched her frazzled brain for conversation.

“So are you from another station?” She asked. Damn. Too blunt, not tactful.

Lyra’s eyes widened in surprise. She had nice eyes, a beautiful deep brown with long lashes and-- focus! “How did you know?” She exclaimed. “I transferred over from the Auriga two weeks ago.”

“You said ‘elevator.’ Everyone here calls them ‘lifts.” 

Lyra let her head flop back against the glass and exhaled dramatically. “Damn! Betrayed by my regional dialect!”

Vega smiled. “What’s it like on the Auriga?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Lyra waved a dismissive hand. “I transferred here because I needed a change of scenery. Actually...this is supposed to be my first day of work.” The corner of her mouth twisted.

Vega grimaced back sympathetically. “Oof. Rough first day. What do you do?”

“Food production, mostly hydroponics. We’re always trying to produce food for as many people as possible with as few resources as possible. What about you?”

“Navigation,” she replied. “Calculating the distance between stars, to make sure we stay on course.”

“That sounds amazing. How does that even work?”

“Trigonometric parallax. It sounds exciting but it isn’t. I spend my days doing geometry and converting measurements into parsecs. I don’t really mind it though. But--” She paused.

“But what?” Lyra asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Well...I was gonna say I hate taking the lift every day.” Vega could feel the sheepish smile on her own face.

Her companion threw her head back and laughed. “About twenty minutes ago I wouldn’t have believed you! But now I think you might be onto something. Actually,” she leaned in again, conspiratorially. “The design of this station was one of the things I liked about it when I requested the transfer. I thought it was daring, or whimsical, or some other romantic crap. Turns out it’s mainly just inconvenient.”

Vega laughed and shook her head. “Welcome aboard the Lacerta. I hope you’re not in a hurry to get anywhere.”

The lift gave another sudden lurch, dropping about a foot before holding in place again. Vega’s head clacked against the glass, and she grabbed towards Lyra on instinct. One of them screamed in surprise. 

When the lift stopped without either of them dying, Vega realized she had one hand on Lyra’s arm and another gripping tightly to her thigh. Lyra’s hands were holding just as tightly to her shoulder and wrist. “Oh my god,” Lyra giggled nervously. “Did you scream, or was that me?”

Vega’s face and neck felt very hot. She made herself take her hand off of the other woman’s thigh. “No idea,” she managed. 

The speaker clicked on again, and they both jumped. Lyra’s hand spasmed against Vega’s shoulder. “Sorry about that,” the voice said. “Are you alright in there? It seems there’s a circuitry problem causing the lift to malfunction. We’re working on getting it sorted out.”

Lyra didn’t seem inclined to move, so Vega untangled herself and crossed to the panel to relay that they were fine. When she asked how long it would take to fix, they didn’t know. When the speaker clicked off again, she turned around with a sigh. Her heart still pounded too fast in her chest, and turning back to Lyra didn’t help. She still sat on the floor, hair starting to come slightly out of its professional knot, looking up at Vega with those big brown eyes. She looked more shaken than Vega had seen her so far. “You okay?” she asked.

Lyra patted the patch of floor next to her, and Vega sat back down. “Do you mind if I--uh, could I hold your hand again? I felt like I was doing fine, but that drop really got me.”

“Sure. If you want I can-- do you want me to put my arm around you?” Vega asked. Her heart rate was definitely not going back to normal. Lyra nodded, and they scooted together so Vega could wrap an arm around her shoulders. They linked their other hands and squeezed tightly. 

She fit into the crook of Vega’s arm like she was meant for it. She smelled amazing, faintly like vanilla. Vega regretted not putting on an extra swipe of deodorant this morning. Lyra sighed gently. “I hope this is okay,” she said. “I know we just met like, a little bit ago.”

“No this is fine,” Vega said. _More than fine!_ “Plus you helped me down from a panic attack like twenty seconds after we met, so I’d say we’re even.” 

That got a giggle from her companion. She had a cute laugh. “Well hopefully we aren’t stuck in here all day because you will not enjoy spooning me in my sleep. I’ve been told I kick.”

Vega’s throat closed up. She tried not to imagine herself curled around the other woman, in a bed tangling sheets, wrapped together against the glass of the lift…

No response felt like a safe one. She made herself give a chuckle, and changed the subject. “Hey, do you want any tea? I have some in my thermos. And I haven’t drank out of it yet today, if you’re worried about germs.” 

“Oh, I’d love that! And I’m not worried about swapping a little spit if you aren’t.” She looked up and caught Vega’s eye. She wasn’t-- that had to have been deliberate, right? Vega could feel her cheeks burning. 

Lyra sat up a bit straighter, pulling away slightly. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable? I can stop.”

Vega’s heart continued its double-time march, but there was another feeling alongside it. “No, no! It just surprised me,” she replied. A little shier, she added “I...don’t mind.” Lyra smiled and relaxed again, and Vega poured tea into the cap to share with her. They sipped quietly for a moment. Vega was working herself up to ask Lyra on a date when the speaker made its telltale click. 

“Hey, just a heads up, we’re about to try something else with the wiring. Hopefully this will do it.” The two women glanced at each other, and quickly poured the tea back into the thermos. Vega screwed the lid back on securely. Lyra reached up and hooked one hand on the railing. 

But this time the lift did not drop. It raised about an inch with a slow squeal, and then Vega felt the pressure shift as the doors prepared to open. Her stomach flew into her throat. The interior and exterior doors, with the connected pressurization and oxygenation systems, were all that kept them insulated from space. If those doors opened…

She pulled herself away from Lyra, who seemed to realize the danger a moment after, and ran for the control panel. She jammed her finger down on the ‘close door’ button over and over. She hit the intercom button too. “Stop! Stop! The door will open!” she yelled. 

The interior door had already begun sliding open. The temperature immediately dropped. Lyra grabbed one side of the door and tried yanking it back into place. It resisted her at first, continuing to retract back into the wall, and then stopped. The doors began to slide closed again, and she quickly pulled her hands back out of the way. 

The doors closed, then retracted halfway open, then closed again. Over and over. The pressure inside the lift didn’t change as they did so. Vega and Lyra watched this in silence. Vega’s pulse pounded in her temples. The inner door was malfunctioning. If the exterior door opened too they were dead. 

“Okay, new plan,” the voice on the speaker said. Now they sounded noticeably stressed. “We’re going to gear up an emergency pod and come get you. Hang tight.”

Lyra reached her hand out to Vega and she took it. “If we survive,” Vega said, “I’d like to take you out to dinner. “

“ _When_ we survive,” Lyra replied, “I would love to go to dinner.”

They kept their arms around one another as they waited for the pod, watching the inner door slide back and forth. They kept their hands linked as they watched the emergency pod maneuver into position outside and install an airlock seal. They had to let go of one another to clamber through the small hatch and into the pod. But the cramped space inside the pod felt like the exact opposite of a problem to Vega with Lyra pressed up against her, practically on her lap. She felt herself breathing a sigh of relief as they flew back in towards the station, and let herself turn her mind towards dinner plans. 

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to think these crazy kids make it work. But if you are interested in some casual reading, might I point you towards the study on the misattribution of arousal by Dutton and Aron (1974)?


End file.
